FUZZball
by Elven Moon
Summary: At F.U.Z.Z., a clothing store for kids, employee Anita Knight dreams of a more rewarding, exciting life. When an oddball customer stumbles in one day, she finds she just might get that wish. AU
1. A Fuzzy Felony

**AN:** Just wanted to make it known that I've taken to mixing the British and American terms for some things. Basically, spoken dialogue will have the British word, anything written will use the American word. This is because, at least in my area, Nicktoons Network changed these words and later brought them back for some reason. So I thought it would be fun (and funny) to combine them. If you find this weird or awkward, send me a note. Thanks!

* * *

Chapter One

~*~

The thermos of tea sat cradled in her hands as she waited patiently for the next customer to come in. It was a slow day, but that was pretty typical for this place. F.U.Z.Z. was a rather funny name for a store, or anything that didn't involve an animal, but to 23-year-old Anita Knight it was quite cute and fitting to its demographic. Situated on a small corner in London, it didn't get the most traffic or harbor the most stylish of clothes; even the inside showcased its dated nature and that a budget for fixing every little problem was pretty minuscule. Paint was chipping in places, the dark wooden furniture and register area looked like it hadn't been updated in decades. However, it seemed to add a touch of charm, as opposed to the plastic and impersonal world of large chain department stores.

A small bell rang out and Anita turned to see her coworker, referred to only as Kowalski (as per her request, believing it somehow made her cooler), walk through the main entrance with a bag of fast food and a smile.

"Hey, Anita," she said. "Anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

Anita smirked. "If you count a man falling off his bike, and a confused tourist asking where they could find the closest 'burger joint'".

"In other words, I didn't miss a thing." Kowalski plopped down on the stool beside her and sighed. "When will anything ever happen around here?"

_A very good question_, Anita thought. There was no mistake that she had fun with her job - being around children and helping make their day brighter was a welcome part of her life. But at the same time, it was about as interesting as watching a caterpillar crawl over a leaf. It was nothing to call or email somebody about, and it didn't make her feel as though she was actually changing the outcome of something important. Just what kind of occupation did this (besides, perhaps, a company executive, teacher or social worker), she wasn't sure. _Maybe a super spy_, Anita wondered in amusement, _but that's only in the movies_.

"So, are you closing tonight?" Kowalski asked, interrupting her friend's inner dialogue.

"Yes, I think so." She sipped her drink softly, using her free hand to tap her fingers on the counter in front of them.

A few moments later, a middle-aged woman who looked like she'd just run five miles came in, breathing hard and oozing desperation."I need a last minute birthday gift!"

Kowalski promptly stood, pushing her lunch aside for the time being. "I'd be happy to help you, ma'am." Then, to Anita she said, "I'll take this one, you just finish your tea."

~*~

Anita wasn't one of those workers who dreaded staying until the last possible hour; actually, it was almost poetic. The store had twinkle lights decorating the windows which were turned on when it got dark, giving the impression of night stars. It was something one couldn't see very well for real with all the light pollution of the city. She liked looking at them and becoming lost in untold stories. To those who knew her, she was a pretty strong-minded and capable woman who didn't care too much for dressy, girlie things. That didn't mean she had no appreciation for art and culture, however; she was a romantic at heart. And with even less traffic than the daytime, she wasn't interrupted too much.

But tonight would be different.

It started out normally. Once she was the only employee around (the store didn't have many people on the payroll, and no more than two were ever there at a time. It was a wonder how they even stayed afloat) Anita did some habitual dusting and refolding of clothes that had been carelessly put back, among other things. A CD played classical music on a small stereo.

So lost in her routine was she that the bell hanging above the door went unheard, and so she was completely unprepared for what happened next.

"Nobody move!"

Clutching at her chest and feeling her heart rate speed up rapidly in deep panic, she whirled around to see a young man with his hands up in the air. At first she assumed the store was being robbed, and so prepared to protect herself (it didn't hurt that she'd taken several karate classes and knew some good disabling moves).

"Just who do you think you are? Explain yourself!" she said hostilely. "I don't like thieves and I'm not afraid to take action." She did a small kick jump to emphasize her point.

He took a second or two to look at her and tilted his head, as if he hadn't expected such a reaction. "I'm Victor Volt, and this is official business!"

"Official business?" Anita still kept her hands and arms in a "ready for battle" position, but figured she'd humor the strange person that had caught her by surprise and perhaps stall for time. "For who?"

"That's for me to know and you not to know. Stand aside, citizen, and allow me to do my work." Ignoring Anita's annoyance, he briskly walked forward and scanned the place.

_Judging by his accent, I'm guessing he's American, though I can't say from where exactly_, Anita thought. The man who called himself Victor was also donned in the most unusual clothes she'd ever seen. What sane and practical person wore a skin tight (save for the bottom of the pants, which flared out like bell-bottoms), dark blue full body suit, complete with a belt and boots? Not something that would instill trust in the hearts of men.

She followed him very closely as he wandered through what few aisles there were, occasionally sniffing or poking something and recording whatever he was finding in a small, cellphone-like device.

"Look, I don't know what you want, but I doubt you'll find it here, Mr. Volt," she said.

"It's Victor. Mr. Volt makes me feel old," Victor said, still speaking in a serious tone.

She frowned. "Victor. You can't just come in and do whatever you like. Either leave or I'll ring the authorities." He didn't appear to have heard her, picking up a handful of baby socks and sticking a pair on his large nose. "Hey, are you listening to me?"

"Are you there? Professor Professor? Hello?" He was speaking into what was clearly not a communication device (the same pair of socks that was on his nose), when she tapped him hard on the shoulder. "Not now, citizen, I'm busy."

"It's Anita. And don't call me that."

Once he'd finished his little task he looked her straight in the eyes. "Anita. What I'm doing is important to the pursuit of justice of the earth."

"What, checking for lint? What could possibly be here that's so important?"

"Shhh. Did you hear that?" He paused, putting a finger to his lips, and checked the area cautiously. But Anita could only hear the stereo moving to a Mozart track (hardly threatening unless you disliked the composer), forget something he might consider a danger to them.

"I don't hear anything." She raised her eyebrows high in curiosity. What would he do next? Was he here to act like a clown?

"Get down!" Before she knew it, Victor had grabbed her arm and pulled her down to the hard wooden floor with him. Flinching on impact, she immediately rubbed the spot where his hand had been.

"Just what are you doing now? That hurt!"

Victor didn't bother to apologize, focusing his attention on the entrance. "It's not safe for me to be here anymore. I have to go."

She smiled wryly, standing slowly up and dusting her knees. "Yes. Do go. I have a job to do and you're not exactly making it easier."

His eyes roamed back and forth in indecision before he darted to the door. "Remember my name. I'm Victor Volt, and I was never here!" With a slam of the door, he was gone.

"I'm not so sure I even want to remember," Anita muttered to the silence. As she surveyed the damage he'd caused (clothes on the floor, a lingering smell similar to week old pizza, among other things), she grumbled and ran her fingers through her blond hair. But she couldn't deny that, for once, her evening hadn't been the same as any other.

~*~

"And then as fast as he came, he was gone. Honestly, the man was mad."

It was the next day, and Anita was retelling her experience to Kowalski. She'd been distracted that morning, making mistakes such as sorting things in the wrong sections and giving a customer 50 pounds in change, so her friend had sat her down to spill it all.

Kowalski winked. "I don't know, those dust bunnies can be pretty cunning."

"I hope I never see him again," Anita said. "If I never see him it again it will be too soon."

"Awww... but he was cute, right? They can't be all bad if they're cute. Besides, he really shook things up." Kowalski pouted. "I wish it had been me."

_He was rather good looking_, Anita admitted to herself. Not model handsome, but few girls would call him ugly. His hair was a light brown - a sort of tan color in writer's terms. His body had been healthy and acceptably thin from frequent exercise. And really, he hadn't seemed like he'd meant any true harm. But still, he was weird, and that was that.

Days passed, then weeks, and soon thoughts of Victor the oddball slowly left to the point that he was merely a fuzzy memory tucked at the back of Anita's mind (a "fuzzball" as Kowalski had cleverly dubbed him, mixing the two words for her own pleasure). But the blessing in disguise had only just begun.

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Just who is Victor, and will they meet again? You'll just have to see! I hope you've enjoyed my story. If you find any errors or feel anyone acted out of character, please let me know. Reviews are always appreciated :)


	2. The Moving Mountain

If you had told Anita weeks, days, or even mere hours before that she'd be spending her morning chasing a "moving mountain" across the busy streets of the place she called home, she'd laugh herself right into a hospital visit. But that's what the young woman was doing, like a baker following the ever-troublesome gingerbread man.

Sweat dripped delicately down her face, but she didn't bother to wipe any of it away and risked having the skin of a soaked balloon. Her muscles ached, but she refused to rest for even a second; if she did, she'd lose it. Something was compelling her not to give up; something was telling her that whatever this thing was, living or paranormal, criminal or not, it would lead her to a new kind of life.

The persistence was paying off, as the peach colored mound with tufts of green on either side was losing covering. Sooner or later it would have to expose itself completely. And when that time came, she'd be just behind.

~*~

About fifteen hours prior, it had been a typical Friday evening. With not much to do with herself after finishing her favorite book for the tenth time, Anita was just settling down with some snacks for munching and a Hollywood blockbuster, when the doorbell rang.

"Anita!"

"Alphonse, this is such a surprise. What brings you here?"

The slightly plump, dark skinned man kissed her softly on the cheek. "My dear Anita, do I really need a reason to see you? I hope you received the roses I sent you." Alphonse was Anita's boyfriend, who hailed from Italy.

She giggled. Somehow he had this power to make her feel nervous and new, like a schoolgirl experiencing first love. "Oh yes, they were beautiful. How is your exhibit going?"

Not only was Alphonse one of the only true, old fashioned gentlemen left in the world (the kind that opened doors, pulled out chairs and never pushed for anything. Anita did protest that she could do things for herself, but with Alphonse she let it slide most of the time), he was also an artist. He wasn't famous yet, but true geniuses were never truly understood, or so he claimed. Though, what he specialized in was not typical in the least and that had a hand in holding his career back. While many artists used paint and other standard materials, Alphonse preferred the bizarre. Nobody else could claim they'd made a chair entirely out of chewed carrot scraps (not meant to be used or sat on, as a few patrons learned the hard way), or a ball of fuzz created from nose hair from his own personal stash.

His eyes shined with passion. "Wonderfully, just wonderfully. I only wish you had been at the unveiling party." Alphonse frowned and held her hands in his own. "It's so lonely when you aren't with me."

Unfortunately, because Alphonse was still living in his native country, they didn't get to see each other very often. It wasn't as though he wouldn't fly over any time she wanted him to if he could, but the job was draining and constant (not to mention the small income didn't allow for it), and it was only on the rare occasion that he got to see her. It was the age old "long distance relationship."

She looked at him sadly. "I know, Alphonse, and I'm sorry. But you know I could never leave England to live with you. At least, not at this point in my life."

"I understand, Anita. You are still young, and there is much time ahead of you. I can wait."

They wandered into the kitchen area, Anita offering him something to drink. After two glasses of wine had been poured, they sat down on the couch to chat further. Eventually the topic moved to Anita's job.

She tapped her glass with a fingernail. "Something is off."

"Perhaps, my dear Anita, you should start looking for another job?" Alphonse suggested.

"I thought of that, but honestly I'm not finding anything that calls out to me."

"Hmm..." he looked thoughtful. "I think I shall sculpt something for my next show. It will be called 'Anita in anguish.' Do you happen to have any stray hairs in a brush I could use?"

"Um... probably. Wait here, I'll go see." She stood up to walk away.

"By the way," her boyfriend called after her, "I'm going to see the sights tomorrow to find inspiration. Would you like to come?"

She laughed. _What a silly question!_ "Of course I would."

~*~

Alphonse had only left her for a few moments to check out a particularly captivating stain on the sidewalk when her adventure had began.

Faster and faster moved the prey, at a speed that should not have been possible. Still the female James Bond persisted in the game, pumping and pumping her body to move around the oblivious passerby scattered in every possible place they could fit, and she was honestly perplexed why nobody noticed. After all, they were the ones giving it camouflage!

_Almost... just a little bit..._ Anita thought to herself. _There!_

Her trail had led her to a very nondescript building, with dull brown bricks on the outside. Faded shadows of lettering rested above the door where the original source had obviously fallen off a long time ago. Because of the weather not being able to get through, the imprint of what had been written was still there, just barely; it was too messy to make out. However, there was no mistake that what she was following had come through there. Time to find out what it was and what it was doing in such a place.

The inside gave no answers, to Anita's dismay. There was nothing special or standout-ish; not a single thing. The walls and floors were uncreative, bland, corporate colors (Anita would not have been surprised if their factory names started with "dull." In more likelihood they were probably something like "cream blend" or "dove white" to sound more interesting) that sort of ran together in one big block. There were a few out of place chairs in a crooked line and some very plastic plants in dusty black pots.

_Whoever the decorator was, hopefully they've been fired... if they're even still alive._

On one wall there was a sliding glass window (noticeably scuffed and covered in finger prints), something implying that room was once (or, doubtfully, still was) a waiting room, and Anita went to walk up to it and rap on it to see if she could find a person to talk to. A minute or so passed, and she rapped again, harder and louder.

"Hello? Is anyone there? I'd like to ask a few questions," she said, straining her voice to convey great curiosity.

Some loud and frantic scurrying could be heard on the other side, but still no human was there. Then, a small hand slid the window open from seemingly out of nowhere. It belonged to a very short woman who looked like a purple grape in a pickle jar. In other words, she did not belong. Her clothes were bright and unmatched, hair in a sloppy gray bun that threatened to fall out any second, and glasses that lay straight on the edge of her nose. The strangest part was her eyelashes. Were they taped on to the glasses?

"Yes, yes? What is it, what is it? No time, no time!" She spoke in an annoyed, heavily accented voice.

Anita backpeddled a bit, now caught with nothing to say; she hadn't quite planned this far. "Um, my name is Anita, and I was just wondering-"

"Closed, closed! Come back later, _fraeulein_!" She was gone before Anita could speak again.

"How could there be a later in this place? What an incredible woman." Anita shook her head. Did she dare play the Alice card and continue her journey down the rabbit hole? The unlocked door next to the sliding window answered that.

~*~

The hallway was long, thin, and claustrophobic in that you could touch either wall with your elbows if you spread them out a bit. There weren't even any numbers on the endless supply of doors. Anita would've bet her life savings that the building was abandoned if not for the frizzy little secretary. If people were working there, just what were they doing?

"_und_... then you must be careful..."

Was that a voice? It was faint and didn't give the impression that it came from a specific door. Anita could feel the adrenaline coursing through her body. Was this excitement?

"I feel like I'm on some kind of secret mission," she said to herself. She began to check each door, most opening to pitch black or a random stack of boxes or other office supplies. Thanks to her patience, the voices gradually became louder. She had to be near!

"I tell you again _und_ again... but you don't listen..."

From what she could tell, there were two people, both male. One was younger. Both she'd swear she had heard before.

_There! _She'd found the right door!_  
_

"You weren't supposed to talk to her, just check the area." The older man screamed "scientist," wearing a standard issue white lab coat and wielding a long stick, which was either for lectures or a cane for his troubles. Anita couldn't help but notice his bald head that still had a faint shout-out to what color his hair was - green. Was he... ?

The younger man sat on top of a large, bulky object concealed by an orange cloth, twiddling his thumbs and acting the part of a reprimanded toddler. His lips pursed. "It wasn't my fault, I mean..."

Something inside Anita snapped.

"You!" It had been a long time since she'd last seen him, but it was unmistakable.

Victor Volt.

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What is Victor doing there, and what's the mystery behind the building? Why does Anita know the scientist? You'll just have to wait and find out :) Feedback is not required (I'm not going to refuse to post the next chapter or anything) but it's ALWAYS appreciated. If you see any mistakes in this chapter, let me know. Thanks!


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